


Take out is good for the soul

by lost_inhibitions



Series: Darkiplier Drabbles [2]
Category: Darkiplier - Fandom, Youtubers, markiplier - Fandom
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-14
Updated: 2018-07-14
Packaged: 2019-06-10 06:26:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15285660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lost_inhibitions/pseuds/lost_inhibitions
Summary: Dark isn’t doing too well, finical wise. Finding a job as a man who doesn’t exist is rather…challenging. Not to mention humiliating. So, he settles in for a “nice” night at home





	Take out is good for the soul

Once Damiens returns home for the day, he strips. Out of his nicely pressed suit and into well…pajama pants. He hangs the suit up and tosses the button up shirt in the hamper to be washed later. Next, he saunters over the the fridge and pulls out a left over take out box of kungpao chicken and rice. He snaps of pair of chop sticks and moves over the couch. He plops down and begins to eat. His stitches tugging at his skin. He should’ve left the bullet in there. He wouldn’t been fine.

Just fine.

But no. He had to try and  _DO_  something. His body contorts in a fit of boiling rage and he snaps his chop sticks in half causing his food to falls to the floor. He groans and sets the food on the coffee table.He gets up.Grabs six more sets of wooden sticks, walks back to his seat and snatching his dinner. Ignoring the mess. But this time he sits differently. Feet on the coffee table, blanket draped over his lower half, extra sticks by his side. As long as he didn’t….drop…his food would be fine.

  
So to hopefully numb his mind from the urge to scream and rant and stab something soft and cute…he turns on the television. Anything to distract him from _that_   _ **insesent**_ - _No_. No.nonono  _Not_. now.

Breathe in.                     Breathe out.

  
His hand drums on the takeout box as he rips apart the sticks. Okay. Relax. _Crack. Crack_.  
The mindless droning of the television was just what he needed. The thoughts settled and he could…fade away. Eating slowly as to not upset his damaged stomach.His fingers drum on the box

_R-taddadada_

_R-tadadada_

——

With the food cast aside, Damien had since pulled up the blanket to his shoulders and curled in his chair. Dozing off with the television keeping a part of him occupied. Or at least…He assumed when he woke up….because in the apartment all you could hear was a soft methodical R-taddadada

_R-tadadada_

_R-taddadada_

_R-tadadada_

On the leather of the chair. 


End file.
